


Shelter As We Go

by callaina



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Comfort No Hurt, Developing Relationship, Hatake Kakashi Needs a Hug, M/M, Minor Character(s), Nightmares, Sickfic, Umino Iruka Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callaina/pseuds/callaina
Summary: Iruka had never been a sickly child. Kakashi, though, was the complete opposite.





	Shelter As We Go

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be a short drabble, originally intended for myself and not for anyone else. But I was having a good time writing while having a bad-ish time otherwise (was actually sick for part of this) and the word count grew a little :-)
> 
> (two brief mentions of throwing up towards the end of this but not described in detail)

Iruka had never been a sickly child.

When he was younger even the biting cold had never bothered him, much to his mother’s dismay who would always try to get a hold of Iruka before he escaped outside, gathering the flailing bundle of limbs up in her arms. Her attempts at pulling a sweater over his head, covering his exposed and freezing skin from running around in a short-sleeved shirt for most of November were more or less fruitful but Iruka held those memories dear.

All the once-in-a-lifetime diseases Iruka had been exposed to as he entered the academy to start his training as a shinobi of Konoha. Kakashi, though, was the complete opposite. They had only been dating officially for three weeks when Kakashi turned up at Iruka’s apartment with a high fever, insisting that he was good to go out for food and _no_, he certainly had not caught a cold, Iruka, thank you very much. Iruka, however, only stared at the man in front of him, biting down on his anger that was starting to rise from a place of frustration at dealing with yet another jounin who had never learned to properly take care of themselves. Before they’d started seeing each other, this very new and fragile thing, Iruka often thought Kakashi had the emotional capacity of a five-year-old when it came to denying his own, most of the time devastating health status, learned from long hours at the mission desk and a few occasions where a chakra-depleted Kakashi had skipped the way to the hospital to turn in blood- and mud-stained reports.

(A few months later Kakashi informed him that he was trying to flirt by turning in his paperwork promptly after a mission and either way, thought Iruka had understood his intentions. Iruka swore the man would give him an aneurysm by the time he turned thirty.)

But instead of chiding him, Iruka took one hard look at Kakashi’s face or what was exposed of it and noted the flush on his pale, pale winter skin. It also didn’t help Kakashi’s case that he was wearing a woollen scarf on a late summer night. Iruka realized that despite obviously running a fever that should have had Kakashi on bedrest two days ago, Kakashi still made the effort to come and see him. Iruka revelled in the warmth spreading through his chest and before the blush could reach his cheeks, he grabbed the jounin by his sleeve and dragged him inside.

He left Kakashi standing in the hallway, the sight of him there still a bit unusual, still a bit new for Iruka, but in a way that left him longing for more of it.

“Take off your jacket, I’m taking you to bed.”

Kakashi blinked at him, before standing up a bit straighter. His slouch, Iruka knew, was mostly for when he was roaming the village. “My, my, sensei. In a hurry?” His voice was a little rough as if it hurt him to speak. Iruka stopped on his way into the kitchen and turned around again, finger raised and pointing at Kakashi who was taking his shoes off to follow. His eyes were fixed on the jounin, intent, daring him to speak further. “You know exactly what I meant, you ass.”

In the confines of his apartment, of a room where Iruka and Kakashi were alone it always became easier to read the latter. It was not that he pulled down his mask in front of Iruka because he hadn’t yet. Rather, he seemed more at ease when there was no one else around, no need for Kakashi to keep up a performance, of some sort.

Iruka noted the little smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth under the fabric, carefully tucked over his nose, and stared just long enough for Kakashi to cross the distance.

Iruka placed a hand on his cheek, wandering over the covered skin that had been scarred all those years ago, and pushed up Kakashi’s hitai-ate. He waited for Kakashi to nod, a signal that it was okay for him to tie it off. He tugged it into the back pocket of his pants and with a sigh, pushed back strands of Kakashi’s unruly hair, noting the temperature of his forehead. Iruka leaned in to kiss him just right next to the eye that Kakashi screwed up so casually, and let his fingers linger on his skin longer than necessary.

“You’re burning up. When did you come back from your mission?”

Before Iruka could lean too far back, Kakashi hooked a finger into one of his belt hoops to keep him close. “Yesterday. Can you do that again?”

It wasn’t the first time Kakashi had asked. Iruka’s lips barely brushed the eyelid that was covering the Sharingan. This time Kakashi pulled down his mask to follow Iruka. He closed his eyes, having caught glimpses of Kakashi’s face here and there but never a longer glance, never the full sight. He all but melted into the kiss, into how gentle both of them could turn at moments like this, shinobi that were not meant to be, not trained to be gentle, ever. Even though putting distance between them was the last thing Iruka wanted, he broke the kiss at the alarming heat of Kakashi’s mouth.

“Come on, you really should be in bed. I’ll put on some tea.”

Kakashi grumbled a bit, Iruka finding the sound way too similar to certain ninken when they did not get their treats. He left Kakashi in the bedroom only when he actually witnessed him starting to peel of his clothes and rummaged around the kitchen. There were some painkillers that would help lower the fever if it wouldn’t go down on its own.

To his surprise, Kakashi had followed his orders and stripped. His clothes were lying in a disregarded heap at the lower end of his mattress, with Kakashi already so deep under the covers that only a grey tuft of his hair was poking out from under them. Iruka snorted at the sight and sunk to his knees next to the bed, pulling the blanket away from his face. He frowned at the feverish glaze over Kakashi’s exposed eye that was staring right through him until Iruka again put a hand to his forehead. His frown grew deeper.

Kakashi did not protest when Iruka guided him into more of a seated position, watched him swallow the pain medicine for his probably aching head, and only when Kakashi had downed a good amount of fluids, sipping the tea through his mask, to keep him from dehydrating did Iruka let him lie down again.

He watched the jounin from where he crouched on the ground. They had not discussed their relationship yet, although ‘boyfriend’ wanted to slip off of Iruka’s tongue already. He wanted Kakashi by his side, for the near and, although it did scare him, far future.

“You’re good at this.” Kakashi’s voice wasn’t much more of a low rumble at this point, muffled by the covers he had immediately pulled up right to his nose again. Iruka blinked at his own hand, stilling in Kakashi’s hair. He hadn’t realized he had absentmindedly started running his fingers through the grey strands. Growing up and watching from afar, Iruka had always wondered how they seemed to defy gravity like no one’s business.

“At making you behave?” he deadpanned.

Kakashi had closed his eye under Iruka’s touch and hummed at his question. “At taking care of people.”

And Iruka guessed he was good at that. When he decided to start his training for the academy, it was more of a mechanism: it kept him busy on the bad days and alive on those which were worse. As long as he felt like he did a decent job at helping those around him, at openly showing that he cared about his friends, a quality one did not find too often in active-duty shinobi, it did not matter how well he was coping with a belated grief and loneliness that would come crashing down on him in waves. But Iruka had learned. At one of the toughest points, when he was unsure of how to continue like this much longer, Naruto had entered his life. And after his graduation, Iruka had gone through the strange and beautiful ordeal of getting to know Hatake Kakashi as the leader of the newly formed Team 7. What had once been a lifeline grew into what had always been an instinct.

Iruka huffed, an amused smile working itself onto his face. “Someone has to look after you from running Konoha into the ground.” It sounded like he was referring to Konoha’s elite, all the jounin that frequented the mission room to pick up mission after mission as if they were trying to break a new record. One time, Anko had indeed tried to. But he didn’t think Kakashi would be able to miss the fondness in his gaze that he only directed at him. He was a shinobi, the renowned Copy Nin, after all.

Kakashi shifted so he was lying on his side rather than on his back, and tugged at Iruka’s free hand. Iruka went willingly. It had terrified him in the beginning, when they hadn’t started actually dating, how far gone he was for Kakashi already.

Kakashi lifted the covers for Iruka to slip under and before he could settle his head on the pillow, he startled at Kakashi’s shivering muscles and burning skin. As he opened his mouth, however, Kakashi murmured by his side.

“Never been good at it. Showing people how I feel about ‘em.”

And Iruka didn’t want to say it was fine, because he hated how Konoha had left Kakashi to fend for himself after his father’s death, when trauma revisited him after the death of his teammates. Even so, part of it was also how Kakashi was wired, and it didn’t matter to Iruka in what way he told him. He was here and that was enough.

Iruka pressed a kiss to his forehead and let his lips linger for a moment. “I don’t think you’re right about that but that’s for another day.” Just as he was about to get up to fetch another glass of water to put on his bedside table when Kakashi would wake up thirsty, a grip on his waist let him look back on the jounin. Both eyes open, he watched Iruka as the tomoe in his Sharingan whirled around lazily, as if they too were affected by the fever.

“Stay?”

And Iruka thought the answer to that question would never be anything but yes. Kakashi wrapped his arms around his torso and hid his face against Iruka’s chest, a fine tremor running through his limbs. Iruka tensed at the breath against his skin, hot and unfiltered, and glimpsed down at a bare nose. He started to speak before he’d fully processed the sight. “You’re not wearing your mask, should I – “ but Kakashi just shook his head, eyes already closed. “Doesn’t matter, ‘ruka. Go to sleep.”

Iruka swallowed. He buried his face in sweat-dampened hair, pressing another kiss against Kakashi’s temple and found that he didn’t mind the ruined date at all.

* * *

Iruka crouched down to the crying child in front of him.

“Please let me see, Kawa-chan.”

Big tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to bite back on the sobs that were shaking her small body. She clutched her right hand to her chest and only hesitated for a moment before she held it out for Iruka to inspect. She laid her fingers out on his outstretched palm and instead of an instinctive frown at the blood, Iruka smiled at her.

“Do you remember our lesson about all the kinds of shinobi there are?”

Kawa bit down on her quivering lip, but nodded quickly.

Iruka let the emerald glow of the simplest of healing jutsus light up around his free hand, sure not to startle his student, and covered the bleeding cut from a kunai on her skin.

“See, this is a medical jutsu. Medical nins are not only very important in the hospital, but in the field as well. As an active shinobi you will get injured,” Iruka took his hand away and pointed for Kawa to look down, “but most of these injuries can be healed very well.”

Kawa’s eyes blew wide open when she found the cut to have closed itself and her skin almost unmarked except for a thin line of new, pink skin. In a frenzy, she rubbed at her face to get rid of the tear tracks. Right from the start, the young girl had reminded him of Hinata, often quiet and prone to crying. She would get teased for the latter and ignored for the former, but just as quick as her eyes would fill up with tears, just as fast she would recover. And compared to the start of the school year, there had been a few moments where a fierce will only reminiscent of Naruto himself had shone through in the form of refusing to give up after failure. “Thank you, Iruka-sensei!”

Iruka watched her run back to the group again as he stood up – but his smile was gone in an instant. An ache behind his temples throbbed against his skull and made his vision swim. He sucked in a breath and forced his eyes shut against the pain and waited for it to wane.

The headache had already been there this morning when he woke up and only gotten worse as he groggily stood and pulled back the curtains to let sunshine in. After a cup of tea Iruka had felt better, and ready to face the day with the first years he had begun teaching a few months ago. He barely kept himself from sneezing right down into his sencha and stumbled over his own limbs as he slid his bare feet into a pair of slippers and made his way to the bathroom. Iruka managed to catch himself with a hand on the wall but honestly, he knew he must have looked like a drunken fool.

After the lesson was over and the children splayed out for lunch break, Iruka counted the time since he had last been sick and sighed. With some luck he would feel better tomorrow but still, he checked the lesson plan for the upcoming week to see if there were any important events he couldn’t allow himself to be miss. He packed his bag for the evening shift at the mission room after handing his class over to his current teaching assistant.

At the Hokage Tower he checked in with Tsunade to see if there were any urgent missions to be reviewed and he was about to turn with a slight bow when Tsunade stopped him. “You don’t look too good, Iruka.”

Iruka heaved a sigh and let his whole posture slump. “Thank you, Tsunade-sama.”

Tsunade raised his eyebrows at him and immediately, he waved his hands and scrambled for words. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been a long day and I think I might have caught a cold.”

Shizune plastered a stack of papers next to the pre-existing mountains on the Godaime’s desk, making them wobble a bit. Tsunade didn’t even glance at the pile, though Iruka thought he saw a muscle on her face twitch. “You want to take the rest of the day off?” she asked, her voice stern, as Shizune picked up Tonton and sidled next to the desk.

Iruka shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, really.”

Tonton let out a doubtful noise as if she wasn’t too convinced. Tsunade, however, shrugged after a moment of mustering him up. “Well, I trust my shinobi to know themselves. You’re dismissed.”

Early afternoon meant rush time in the mission room. The first two hours of his shift flew by in the blink of an eye, with the only incident being a shinobi who’d just been pulled as a jounin and needed to be reprimanded for their truly ineligible font (Iruka couldn’t even make out if the report was written in _Japanese_ but the jounin caved in pretty easily after being handed a clean form). His line cleared and Iruka took the opportunity to file some scrolls away in the archive before the sun set and all the new genin teams and their senseis would stroll in to report on their newest D-rank of the day. Also, much to his dismay, he had started shivering soon after he sat down at his desk, and the archives were generally kept at a warmer temperature. He waved at the mission room worker next to him to signal he would be back in a minute and made his way through the Tower complex.

Exhaustion wore at him. Iruka cursed at the aches along his body as he reached for a box on a top shelf and when he had deposited the scrolls he sagged against the wall, letting his head fall back.

And only in that absolute quiet did Iruka allow himself to think about what it was that he was missing so. Kakashi had set out for a mission eight weeks ago, and in the beginning the missing was hard on Iruka; there was something, something good, that Iruka had learned he deserved and now that he had it, it was taken away again. Of course, he thought, that was a bit dramatic. Too strong, perhaps. It wasn’t like they had broken up. But for so long Iruka had convinced himself he was living quite a comfortable life when in fact, he had only grown accustomed to loneliness after his parents’ death. And as easy as loving Kakashi came to him, Iruka was struggling with letting him in, and allowing himself to be loved in return.

He rubbed over his face to shake some of that tiredness and braced himself for the rest of his shift. Kakashi would be back sooner or later, and until then there was always work to do. He returned to the mission room and heaved a big breath at the queue before marching towards his desk and bellowing out. “Line up here, please!” He ignored the dizziness that made the room’s edges blur and take on disorientating movement and went ahead with the reports.

He didn’t know how much time passed before a voice rang through to him.

“Are you alright, Umino-san?”

Iruka blinked at the shinobi and didn’t recognise him but their features were concerned, eyebrows drawn together and curves of their mouth downturned.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for a while now.”

Embarrassment tinted his cheeks red and the flush seemed to rush through his whole body. “Ah, sorry, Shinobi-san!” Iruka started up, only resulting in making him more light-headed than before. He swayed on his feet, before supporting himself on his desk and signalled to his co-worker again. “If you’d just excuse me for a second –“

He rushed through the room, out through the door and towards the bathroom, not sure if he had a fever or if he was about to throw up. Better to be sick over a toilet bowl than in front of a significant amount of Konoha’s population.

“Iruka!”

He didn’t stop until an elbow grabbed him. Iruka whirled around, ready to strike whoever was touching him, as he recognized Kakashi’s masked face. Iruka came to a halt, lips parting to let out a gasp, surprise written all over his face. There was dried blood caked over parts of his grey hair. Kakashi was back and there was blood (and a bruise around his good eye?) but he was here. Iruka was about reach forward to pat him down to see if all his limbs were still attached or alternatively, leap into Kakashi’s arms when the dizziness hit him again. It was all he could do to warn Kakashi before he started tilting backwards. “Think I’m gonna pass out.”

He saw the panic in Kakashi’s eye but before he could reassure him that he was fine, he was always just fine, _peachy _now that Kakashi was back, his vision went black.

* * *

When Iruka came to, it was because of a heavy weight landing on his chest. It pushed all air out of him in a rush, till his lungs were emptied to standstill. He wrenched his eyes open and winced against the light. Above, the sky seemed white, an encompassing, scorching white, and he wondered what time it must be for the sun to be standing so high.

Another hit landed. There was no feeling in his arms anymore; Iruka could neither move nor see them. Iruka’s neck was as if paralyzed, eyes staring out into the blazing sun, forcing tears to spring up. He was being crushed. From the top, from underneath, from the sides.

Just as he tried to yell, another wave slammed into him and he choked on what he realised was soil. His lungs rattled in his ribcage as he coughed it back up, bile rising in his throat, but the longer Iruka fought the less he was able to breathe. The next load drowned him in darkness. He buckled, his spine cracking under the force, but there was no more room to be gained.

Iruka was being buried alive and no amount of strength would help him out of this.

Until –

Until he broke free with a start and saw bright blood.

He opened his mouth for a scream as a voice rang through to him.

“-ruka. Iruka! Can you hear me?”

Iruka blinked. He was not drowning in blood now but staring into a Sharingan. As the seconds passed, the figure in front of him came more into focus and Iruka realised it was Kakashi’s.

A bead of sweat ran down his temple as he slowly nodded and swallowed, the taste of fresh earth still lingering on his tongue even after the nightmare was over. Right. It was a nightmare. That’s what Kakashi was also repeating to him now, slowly bringing his hands onto Iruka’s shoulders, splaying his fingers open so Iruka could see he wasn’t armed. His pale skin felt like ice on his own. Another bead followed the length of Iruka’s spine and seeped into his drenched shirt.

“It was a nightmare, Iruka. You’re in your apartment, you’re safe, you’re with me.”

Iruka nodded again and brought up his own hands to grip at Kakashi’s. His factual tone, much like a mission report, did wonders to his frayed nerves. He allowed himself to breathe just like that while the sweat was cooling on his forehead.

Kakashi guided him into a sitting position as he helped him change his clothes because he was too weak to move his limbs. He wondered if that was how Kakashi felt after all those missions where he returned running on dead feet, completely emptied of chakra. A shiver ran through him as Kakashi pulled of the shirt and air hit his damp skin. The trembling didn’t stop when he was back in a clean set of clothes and Kakashi noticed. “You have a fever and it put you into delirium. But I think the worst has passed. Come here.” Iruka let himself be pulled into arms far stronger than he ever remembered feeling and closed his eyes against the images that kept flashing up in his mind.

“You think you can go back to sleep again?” Kakashi murmured into his hair. If you’re there; I would be ready to go up against the world, if you’re there, Iruka thought. He wouldn’t know he had said that particular last part out loud until Kakashi would say so a few days later while he got ready for his first day back at the academy. But for now, it was enough to rest his head on Kakashi’s shoulder and close his eyes.

* * *

“This is awful,” he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse and barely able to rise above in volume. Iruka looked down at his lap where his empty hands rested. How long has it been since he got sick? How many days of work had he already missed?

Don’t get him wrong. Iruka was definitely a homebody person and loved to spend his time off in the confines of his own apartment – reading, brushing up his calligraphy skills to try out some of those ancient fuuinjutsu volumes he’d found in the Third’s private collection after his passing as he always promised himself he would as soon as he got a quiet minute, or accumulating more plants after the first few had not died on him. But everyone who knew Iruka would also soon become aware of his tendencies to throw himself into work, his loyalties, and his duty to the village. The longer he was bed-ridden, the worse Iruka’s anxious mind could get. Prone to ruminating, old guilt, well cared for and grown long since, would return to his side; guilt from surviving, guilt from possibly being a burden to Konoha, guilt from failing Naruto for so long.

“Yo, Iruka. You’re awake.”

Iruka lifted his head and squinted through the early dawn’s light slipping through gaps in his blinds. “Pakkun?”

Said ninken raised his paw in greeting. The metal of his forehead protector glinted as Pakkun nodded his head. Without any further ado, he jumped onto the mattress and settled right before a surprised Iruka. He coughed into the sleeves of the standard black shinobi top he was wearing before having a look around as if he had possibly missed someone else just lounging around in his bedroom. “Where’s Kakashi?”

“At the Hokage Tower. He told me to come and get him in case you were getting worse or dying.” The pug politely bowed out of Iruka’s direct range as he sneezed. “Do you need tissues?” Before Iruka could answer, he bounded off towards the living room or bathroom or wherever he thought he could find some tissues and left Iruka alone and puzzled.

At the Hokage Tower? Well, Kakashi could have been summoned for another mission – but so shortly after getting back from a, what he presumed, S-Rank? And, wait what, _dying_? He wasn’t dying, he just had a bastardised version of the flu right before he was up for getting his flu shot refreshed. “Pakkun!” he called to the room he heard the most noise from.

After a minute the dog walked right back into his bedroom with a whole role of toilet paper in his mouth. “Couldn’t find any tissues,” he explained. Iruka thanked him, but set the role aside for now. “Kakashi doesn’t really think I’m dying, does he?” he asked the ninken. While both Iruka and Kakashi grew up as orphans, Kakashi had been a lot younger than him when he lost his father. Especially when they just started dating, Iruka noticed a few things Kakashi was particular about that Iruka only later figured out were a result of him having his childhood cut immensely short.

“No, but you gave him a good scare when you passed out on him,” Pakkun responded in that dry way of his. If it wasn’t rude to ask, Iruka guessed Kakashi’s oldest ninken must be three times his age just from the way he carried himself.

Iruka startled and goddammit, now that Pakkun had mentioned it the memories came rushing back all at once. With a groan, he let himself sink into the pillow and curled up with the duvet around him. The throbbing in his head got worse the more time he spent awake.

Just as he was about to tell Pakkun that he was fine and didn’t need his much-appreciated help anymore, the wards along the walls of his apartment shifted, making him squirm. Soon after, the front door opened and Pakkun trudged out of Iruka’s bedroom.

Iruka knew it was Kakashi from the way he moved around in the hallway; first securing Iruka’s wards from the inside with a brush of his right hand along the hidden symbols on the door, then taking of his shoes, placing them neatly next to Iruka’s, and only after venturing through the living room and kitchen (in case there was an intruder or enemy, or in most cases both) did he get rid of his flak jacket. He heard Pakkun and Kakashi talking but didn’t pay too much attention, letting his eyes slide close for a second, to see if it would keep his aching head at bay.

“Iruka.”

With effort, he dragged his eyes back open and staring right into a concerned face. Kakashi’s concerned face.

“I’m not dying,” he blurted, paim blooming im his throat, before Kakashi could say anything. “It’s just the flu. I get them like once a year from the academy. Children are evil.”

Kakashi remained silent and watched him; how Iruka had bundled his duvet around himself so only his head poked out of it. Iruka held his gaze and sniffled, wanting to reach for some toilet paper for his runny nose but also completely unwilling to unfold his arms from the cosy warmth of the blanket at the same time.

Finally, something on Kakashi’s face flickered and his features melted into fondness. “Be careful, sensei, someone might quote you on that.”

Iruka scoffed just for show before he mirrored Kakashi’s concerned look from before. “I’m sorry for worrying you. And passing out on you. Right after you came back from your mission. Are you _alright_? I saw blood but maybe that was the fever.”

Kakashi reached out to push strands of Iruka’s brown hair from his forehead. Iruka couldn’t help but lean into his touch. It had been two months. “I’m alright, Iruka. I’ll tell you what I can later. Your temperature is still high.”

Surprised, Iruka glanced up to where Kakashi was still touching his forehead and now extracted his hand, putting it over Kakashi’s. They stayed like this, breathing. Iruka entangled their fingers, still wondering at the contrast between Kakashi's pale, and his own brown skin. “I missed you. Please stay.”

Of course, Iruka knew that if Kakashi was assigned another mission he would and could never ask him to stay. The words had slipped off his tongue too easily. Just like himself, Kakashi had a duty to fulfil and his was perhaps more important than Iruka’s would ever be. But he didn’t mind. They both had their places in Konoha, and these places now happened to be near each other. “Tsunade is not sending you on another mission, is she?”

Kakashi shook his head. “Can you shift a little?” Iruka did as he was asked and lifted the covers for the jounin to slip under them, immediately being pulled closer. “I’m on leave actually.”

Iruka cocked his head to one side. “Tsunade let you off?”

Kakashi nodded and slung an arm over Iruka’s waist, a supressed grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, right where he had his beauty mark. “I had some saved up.”

Iruka snorted into Kakashi’s collarbone, sleep already lulling him in. “Jounin can’t save up leave... try again, ‘kashi.”

Kakashi shifted again, settling one leg between Iruka’s, and closed his eyes. “You’re sick and I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

And it was that simple. Right before slipping away, Iruka thought Kakashi had been wrong at the beginning of their relationship. For all this time Kakashi had shown him how much he cared over and over again.

* * *

“Dooon’t,” Iruka croaked and flung himself at Kakashi. An observer might have described the scene as Iruka jolting up from where he was curled up on his bed, just to tilt forward and flop right onto his stomach again.

Kakashi stopped from where he was crouching to pick up his used tissues from the floor. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Iruka. “’Don’t’ what?”

Iruka’s voice came muffled from where he was talking into the cover. “Don’t pick them up. They’re gross. I’m gross. You’ll get sick.” He accentuated his statement with a cough that started out subtle but grew into a fit until Kakashi came over and rubbed over his back. He moved his head right into Iruka’s field of vision so the amused smile he poorly attempted to hide was all too visible. “Iruka, I watched you throw up. I held your hair up while you threw up. If I’ll get sick it’s not because I picked up your tissues. We’re at the point of no return.”

Iruka wiped at the corners of his eyes, still coughing a little, and gestured in a vague fashion as if Kakashi had made a perfect point to his case.

Kakashi huffed and brushed his lips against Iruka’s temple before he got up. “I made you some miso soup. You want to eat it in the kitchen or here?”

Iruka looked up at Kakashi. Kakashi met his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean here?”

“I am so in love with you.”

Kakashi barked out a laugh as he left for the kitchen again. “Why do I get the feeling you just love my miso soup?”

“I love you _and _your miso soup!”, Iruka called after him, pausing to blow his nose, and continuing when he could breathe again. The sound of Kakashi’s laugh, light and alive, carried over to him. “But especially you!”

And Iruka did. He really, really did.


End file.
